


Brine Brute

by SpoiledAmbrosia



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Large Cock, Muscle Growth, Scent Kink, Scents & Smells, Size Kink, Stuffing, Transformation, belly inflation, cock growth, easy to read, excessive cum, hard to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 08:17:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19291849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpoiledAmbrosia/pseuds/SpoiledAmbrosia
Summary: Randy's batch of pickles has a certain kick to it.





	Brine Brute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JaredFace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaredFace/gifts).



> a commissioned work for a friend that was super fun to work on!!! its like a lot of my work: weird but fucky. read it!!

Fingers splaying across the door, he slowly pulled it shut behind him, breath held high in chest. His arm curled tighter against his swelling ribs, breath finally finding it’s way out through his teeth. He spun on the heel of his shoes, back falling flat against the door, legs going out beneath him. Free to use both hands, Randy let his twitching, eager fingers find a grip on his precious jar. A jar, cold and heavy in his hands, floating in the heavenly jade brine. Inside, trapped by the unsurmountable lid, his pickles.

His stomach spoke from under his turtleneck, foul stench of lavender and - Lord above - violets hitting him like a slap in the face. Randy just barely held back from choking, suddenly holding his breath. He pulled his sleeve over his palm, fingers quickly locking over the lid and twisting, with all his might. It budged, just barely. “Come on, now, just a bit-” It gave again. Randy doubled down, face feeling inflamed from his effort. “Just - open.” Randy’s tongue curled at the back of his teeth, heat rising his face as he twisted and twisted and twisted.

Pop.

Randy gave a surprised “oof” at the sudden give, sleeve and wrist alike feeling wet and cold. The lid clattered away, falling noisily as he gave a wistful sigh at the contents. His fingers crept past the rim, a pleasant shiver running through his arm as he plucked a pickle. The smell alone had his mouth watering, anticipation leaving his heart thundering in his chest. It was a thick, warted gherkin; even outside the brine, their color was a catching jade, scent ripe in all the right ways.

He let his eyes flutter back as he brought the pickle to his lips and gave it a crunch, breaking the piece off and groaning around it. Randy didn’t hesitate to take another bite, teeth sinking through the thick flesh, tart juice bursting over his tongue. He tore into it again, mouth full, green mash peeking at the corners before he willed himself to stop. Randy swallowed it down, mouth tingling from the delectable brine, a content sigh drifting out of him. Around him, his turtleneck was snug, too short at the arms; when Randy reached for another gherkin, his sleeve was saved from another brine dip.

His hand hugged the side of the jar as he wished out another, fingers gripping thick flesh and pulling it up and out. Randy too an eager bite, half of the gherkin gone in a single bite, swallowing the half-chewed mass down, tossing the final half into his mouth and chewing and relishing the taste. His lips were nearly puckering, tongue licking away sour wetness off them. He gulped the mouthful, the second of the pickles settling in his stomach. He was hardly full, and they were so good. It’d be a shame to eat them all at once.

Randy’s thickening fingers found a third, the jar comfortably nestled on his belly, his turtleneck stretching over his broader middle. With each bite Randy took out the juicy, wonderfully sour pickle, his wardrobe suffered. Try as they might, his clothes weren’t built to last on such a strange, changing figure. Even as his collar became almost choking before suddenly becoming loose, Randy was lost in the taste of his dwindling gherkins. The door and floor alike began a pressured creak as he shot in all directions, limbs growing chafted and confined in his shrinking clothes. Sucking his fingers until they were damp, Randy let his hand fall towards the jar again, his eye pulled away from the remaining gherkins and to his stomach. His hand came to rest on it as it began a gurgling growl, bubbles up in Randy’s throat, a whining whimper squished out when his fingers kneaded the well fed mound.

Randy squirmed under his own hand, the brine in his jar sloshing below his bloated gut. “Might’ve overdid it, just a bit.” Sour lip tucked into his mouth, his teeth chewed the soft flesh, hand shifting the contents of the jar around. A few more danced about, bumping into each other, all too perfect and too tempting.

Randy’s fingers just nearly had enough room to grab a pickle, not waiting to bite into it, let the juices roll over his tongue and let his stomach bloom out that much more. His pants were awfully tight and getting tighter. Randy gave the pickle a hurried chomp, not paying more than a second’s glance at his fraying pants. His legs stretched out and thickened, back crawling up the doorframe, more of his belly filling his widening lap with each hearty bite. It grew steadily, every chew granting it a scant bit of mass. Randy’s gulps had it ballooning around, hem of his shirt hiking higher. It’s shape maintained, even as it warped further, bloating and expanding and swelling until it was nearly shiny.

Randy’s turtleneck had ridden up, stretched taut around the meaty past the divut of his navel and quickly losing ground. He had to put the jar on top of his belly, lest he lose it under his blimping gut. There weren’t many left, a shame. Who knew when he’d get another batch this good?

Randy gave a long sigh, fingers no longer fitting into the jar, settling for raising the near palm-sized jar above his head for a more direct method. Randy shut his eyes - brine, delicious. Terribly rough on the eyes, though. His mouth fell open and a stream of brine washed over his tongue, swallowing thickly and feeling squeezed by his turtleneck. His neck thickened tremendously, the surge bleeding into his chest, flesh filling out with hot blood and growing enormous in their fabric prison.

He lapped at the brine, drinking it down and feeling his body react. He drank deeply, hand caressing his belly when stuck out further than his chest did. The glug and glorp of Randy’s ballooning gut filled his ears, finishing off the brine and opening his mouth wide to let the few pickles fall into.

Bumps and warts were hardly felt before Randy chewed them up, a continuous shred of fabric in his ear. Biceps, throbbing with untold strength, hidden strength bursting to the surface in a swift and unstoppable pump. With a long, long pause, Randy swallowed the final mouthful and his clothes gave up with a great rrriip.

Randy felt a draft, and he felt...weird.

A bearclaw of a hand came over his glutted middle, the flesh achy and taut, his meaty fingers feeling too rough on the tender surface. “Hrm, maybe I did overdo it.” Randy drew his hand back, only to return it a moment later, back feeling bowed with the burden of his newfound weight. He whimpered, belly feeling too big, even in both of his huge hands. It gurgled gently, not sounding nearly as upset as he’d imagined. He certainly felt like a tick on a vein, and he looked it. Randy’s quick once over of himself had the blood draining from his face, and away to more...eager areas.

He started to stand, jar falling off the dome of his belly and clattering to the floor. Randy stood and -- oof. His head struck the ceiling, a shooting pain radiating out, the ceiling itself cracked. Randy held his breath, freezing. Across his legs, his pants ripped through, Randy’s pulse quickening when his lower bits responded in kind. Head crouched, neck swallowed up by the meat of his chest, Randy’s legs tried to cross to hide his arousal and - felt good. The meat of his thighs crashed into his growing bulge, trapping the burning shaft in the tatters of his pants and briefs. Randy worried his lip, reaching below and finding his arm fought his belly for room, his teased and still contained package throbbing just out of reach.

Randy let his frustration tear out of him in a pitiful whine. He sat down, suddenly and not without shifting the room with his impact. Tears budded in his eyes, still reaching uselessly at his throbbing and demanding bulge. Alas, his gluttony had ruined him, grown him enormous and strong and - ahem.

Randy settled back against the door, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He huffed, bulge throbbing and soaking the rags of his briefs. “Serves me right for being such a glutton, I knew I shouldn’t had!” He cried, eyes shut as he hid his face in the meat of his forearms. Elbow raising, Randy peeked at the discarded jar, eyes glinting at the small collection of brine in the jar.

“Surely, one last sip wouldn’t hurt…”

**Author's Note:**

> as usual i crave validation in the form of comments and emoji spams. thank you for reading, thank ME for writing. i love you


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